


I'm Sorry, Tommy

by solfraus



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Brothers, Character Death, Goodbyes, I'll add more tags later, Theyre Brothers Your Honor, based off a wilbur soot song, but hes already dead so its fine, by which i mean really ooc, i use paragraph breaks too much im sorry, im sorry boris, no beta im not a coward, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solfraus/pseuds/solfraus
Summary: The resurrection didn't bring Wilbur back, at least not like they thought. With no unfinished business, there's no reason for a ghost to stay. Even if he wants to.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60





	I'm Sorry, Tommy

“Ghostbur, what are you doing?” Tommy asked from a distance.

There was silence for a reply. He turned, his eyes sad and sunken. His skin had turned white from where tears tracked down his face. Ghostbur had been crying. Crying hurt the ghost.

When Tommy noticed the tear tracks, he approached slowly. “Why… Why are you here again? It didn’t--it didn’t work, remember?” He enunciated every word, speaking slowly and calmly.

“I know,” Ghostbur replied quietly. He turned his full body to his brother now. His hands curled to fists at his sides. “I know.”

“Then why’d you come back?” Tommy asked again. His eyes were searching but soft, and he used that tone he saved only for Ghostbur… and Tubbo. Careful. He carried a sword he’d gotten from Tubbo and nothing else, and sheathed that on his back. “Come on, Phil’s waiting for us.” He extended his hand.

Ghostbur didn’t take it.

“I’ve figured it out.” he muttered instead. Tommy’s hand twitched.

“Figured what out?”

Ghostbur smiled weakly and turned back to the mock control room they’d set up for his resurrection. His _failed_ resurrection.

_But it hadn’t failed, had it?_ A part of him whispered. He recognized that part of him.

He’d been stabbed by Phiza here. Twice. _Once_ . He tried not to count the time where he--where _Wilbur_ \--actually died, that wasn’t him. He’d thought that for many, many moons and still he knew. Wilbur and Ghostbur were one and the same, and he had the ugly scar across his chest and stomach to prove it. It still hurt, sometimes. When it rained. When he got a bit too upset. When he got close to the place where he’d died before.

There wasn’t any escaping him, escaping Wilbur. No matter how far he tried to run.

The resurrection had brought back many ugly memories of himself, and some _good ones_. Very few good ones, but they were there. Of him, and Tommy. Tubbo, Philza. L’ma--

“What did you figure out?” Tommy echoed. He stayed his distance with wide eyes. His hands dropped to his side.

“Why it won’t work.” Ghostbur admitted. He gently brushed his fingers along the walls. They passed right through. “I’ve figured out what can move me.”

“Oh.” Tommy blinked hard. He stepped forward again, his brows knit in confusion. “Well…. Wait, what? Ghostbur I’m not following. The resurrection didn’t _work_. Y’know, maybe--maybe let’s just not worry about it for now.”

When Tommy was mere fet behind him, he paused. He noticed some look, some many in the way Ghostbur held himself… it wasn’t normal.

Not for Ghostbur.

Ghostbur stood in front of the L’Manburg flag that hung from the wall and stared blankly, seeing nothing. Yet he felt like he’d seen this all before. He took a deep, shaking breath.

“Tommy,” he began, his voice cracking. “Tommy, I have to go now. I have to go.”

“You’re talking nonsense.” Tommy interjected. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a little jar of blue dye.

“Here,” he insisted, pushing it into Ghostbur’s hands. “Blue. Have it.”

Ghostbur accepted it uncaringly, eyes still fixed on the flag.

“This flag… this flag ruined everything. L’manburg ruined _everything_. It ruined me, it ruined…” he looked at Tommy. “Tommy it ruined you.”

And it was true. Tommyinnit was a child who’d dealt with more war and devastation than he cared to admit. He’d been killed, betrayed, manipulated, and exiled, all before he turned 18. He’d stared death in the face more times than half the adults on the server. And when death stared, back, Tommy didn’t falter. He never stepped back.

And here they were. Again. Opposite sides of some invisible war neither of them could win. On opposite sides of life and death, speaking to each other through cracked glass neither of them could move through. Tommy itched to shatter it completely. In the same way he wanted to reach for Wilbur when he’d descended into madness; when it was just the two of them in the final control room. When both of them ended up on opposing sides of the war.

“I’m not ruined.” Tommy said sharply. “I’m fine. Or, I will be. Once we bring you back.”

“Tommy I don’t think I can come back.” Ghostbur admitted finally.

Tommy froze, his eyes wide. He looked like he’d been struck. Their glass barrier gained another layer. “Ghostbur, what are you on about?”

“Look at me, Tommy. I built L’manburg. I caused the wars. If it weren’t for me, Tubbo wouldn’t be president of a smoking hole in the ground. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have lost your discs. If it weren’t for me, you would never have had to face Dream.”

“I never said I was gonna fight Dream--”

“You didn’t need to. If you stood up to me, you’d stand up to Dream. You stand up to everyone Tommy, even death.” Ghostbur sighed, clutching his blue tightly. _Calm, calm, calm_. “I’m not good for anyone here.”

Tommy’s eyes locked on the ground. “You… you keep saying ‘me’, Ghostbur. You keep saying ‘if it weren’t for me’. It wasn’t you, it was Wilbur.”

Suddenly a veil that was thick enough to drown under became slightly, ever slightly thinner.

“How long have you been back?” Tommy asked, unmoving. His tone was flat. “Is it Wilbur I’m speaking to?”

Ghostbur sighed. “I-I… Tommy, look around. L’manburg is a hole in the ground. There’s no coming back from this. This is the end of a decade.”

“It doesn’t have to be--”

“But it is, Tommy.” Ghostbur handed his blue back to his brother. “It is, and that’s okay. It’s okay for things to end.”

Tommy stayed uncharacteristically quiet.

“That includes Wilbur, Tommy. That includes me.”

Ghostbur drifted back to the flag like he was drawn to it. “Everyone on this sever is flawed. Some more than others, of course, but no one is perfect. No one is _good_. Everyone fights their own battles, I think. I always tried to fight mine for you.”

Tommy lifted his head up ever slightly, but his eyes were hidden by his curtain of messy blond hair.

“Everyone here is flawed,” Ghostbur repeated. “I--Wilbur was flawed, and that makes _me_ flawed. But I _like_ being flawed, Tommy. I like being flawed. It means I can get better. It means you can get better too.”

He was met with more silence.

“Tommy?”

“I can’t get better.” Tommy muttered.

Ghostbur smiled weakly. He walked over to his brother and lifted his head. Tears had made his face red and pink.

He knew Tommy hated crying, and even more being _seen_ crying. But he let Ghostbur wipe away his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. He didn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re still a kid, Tommy. You don’t know.”

Tommy screwed his eyes shut, jerking his chin away from Ghostbur’s hands. “You’re right, I _don’t_ know.” he said bitingly. “I don’t know why everyone has to leave. Or-or why I can’t have _one_ good thing. I lost the discs, I lost L’manburg, I lost _Tubbo_. I lost--I lost myself too, somewhere. Why do I have to lose you again? What am I being punished for?”

Ghostbur’s scar ached. If he were corporeal, or human, that might’ve been heartache. He’d forgotten what that felt like. He didn’t like it.

“You haven’t lost everything. You haven’t lost yourself. You still have Tubbo and Phil. You haven’t lost everything.” Ghostbur assured him.

Somewhere, distantly, a bell rang in the hills. Once.

The veil got even thinner.

“I don’t want to leave you.” Ghostbur admitted, his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. “I-I don’t want to leave. But there’s no L’manburg anymore. And if that was what Wilbur stayed for, what do I stay for?”

“You aren’t Wilbur.” Tommy insisted, his voice strained.

“Maybe, maybe not. But if Wilbur died, and I showed up here, what does that mean?”

Another pause. Tommy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t know.”

Ghostbur chuckled. “I don’t either. But I know that I’m flawed, and I can get better.”

Another bell. Twice.

Ghostbur looked north towards the sound. Tommy followed his gaze.

The veil got thinner.

“Tommy,” Ghostbur continued. “All of the blue on this server couldn’t make what you’ve gone through any better. But that doesn’t mean it’s hopeless.”

“Ghostbur I--”

“So please, Tommy. Don’t let anyone convince you you’re hopeless. Not Phil. Not Technoblade. Not Tubbo. Not Dream.”

Tommy only looked into Ghostbur’s eyes. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“I have to. Did you hear the bells?”

“I saw you look, but I didn’t hear anything.”

Ghostbur steeled himself. “Wilbur’s unfinished business here was L’manburg. With no L’manburg--”

“There’s no reason for you to stay.” Tommy surmised.

Ghostbur held back the urge to glance at the flag behind him. “It’s funny. Even though I’m finished, I’m not quite _done_ with it.”

Another bell. Three times.

He could almost walk through the veil now.

“No one’s ever done being alive, Ghostbur.” Tommy reminded him.

“No, I suppose not.” Ghostbur lamented. “And still…”

Tommy looked down again, but this time no tears were shed. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of them that _this_ was it. He could cry, but that wouldn’t change anything. So he swallowed it all and spoke, as evenly as he could.

“Ghostbur, if I never see you again… If I die and go to the void and we never find each other… you wer-- are--the best brother I’ve ever had. And I will miss you a lot.”

Ghostbur felt the familiar fire pooling in his throat. He wouldn’t cry. Crying hurt like rain. But this… this hurt so much worse. So he did.

He held his brother, _his brother_ , and his brother held him back like their world depended on it. And he cried.

It wasn’t the resurrection they’d planned. Hell, could it be considered a resurrection at all? Ghostbur had to leave this world and travel to the next. Tommy, forced to stay. And again, the two were separated by some barrier impossible to cross.

Over and over again they lose each other.

So they stood holding each other for as long as they could.

Finally, Ghostbur spoke. “Remember the train, Tommy?” he asked, his chin rested on Tommy’s head.

Tommy replied after a beat. “I do.” he took a deep breath. “We were leaving home. We got on a train, and I lost my toy sword. I remember.”

“I remember you fell asleep in my arms.”

“You’re falling asleep in mine, now.” Tommy said softly.

“It does appear that way, doesn’t it.” Ghostbur remarked with a smile. He closed his eyes. “You’re the big brother now, Tommy. Will you wish me goodnight?”

Tommy paused for a long moment, He squeezed his arms tighter around Ghostbur, but he could already feel him fading away.

The final bell, a fourth time.

The veil disappeared.

“Goodnight, Wilbur.”

=======

_10 Years Ago_

“Let’s go, Tommy.” Wilbur insisted, holding his little brother’s hand.

Tommy, having recently turned 7, was prone to stumbling and distraction. Wilbur couldn’t afford that right now. They had to get on the train.

The station was crowded with adults all trying to board the same train as them. Everyone wanted out of the slums, but very few could afford it. Hundreds of people squeezed together by the tracks, it would be very easy for children to get lost. Especially a child like Tommy.

“Tommy if you don’t hurry I’m going to leave you behind!” Wilbur threatened, which promptly caused his little brother to burst into sobs. He dropped the toy sword he’d been playing with, and it disappeared into the crowd of brown-clad, anxious adults.

The two squeezed in between a group of people who were speaking fast in a language Wilbur couldn’t understand. A woman was crying and a man, probably her husband, was going through their bags, gesturing angrily inside.

_Oh, a forgotten ticket,_ He thought painfully. _Rotten luck_ . Wilbur, now 15, had finally saved enough for a ticket for both of them. He didn’t let Tommy see them, much less _touch_ them. He needed them to get on that train. It was the only way for them to stay together.

When Tommy’s crying finally toned down to a quiet sniffling Wilbur scooped him up in his arms. “I’m sorry Tommy, but you have to keep up with me. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You wouldn’t leave me, right Wilby?” Tommy whimpered.

Wilbur sighed. “I wouldn't ever leave you, Tommy. No matter how far away I am, I’ll always come back for you. I promise.”

Tommy sniffled again, wiping his eyes. “I don’t think I wanna leave you either.” he mumbled before falling asleep in his brother’s arms.

Wilbur watched his little brother sleep as the two stood in line for the train.

He hugged him tighter. _I don’t think I want to leave you_.

“We’ll be home soon, Tommy. Goodnight.”


End file.
